


Things Have a Way

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Bonding, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Mugging, Multiple Orgasms, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:09:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Tim gets mugged in his civilian identity. Damian comes to pick up the pieces.





	Things Have a Way

**Author's Note:**

> For #TimDamiWeek - Day 4: Beloved || Sharing Clothes  
> Beta: kate1zena

Tim hissed as he eased himself onto one of the chairs in Damian's kitchen. One hand was still plastered to his side, holding the gauze Damian had shoved at him on the bike ride back into the outskirts of Blüdhaven. He felt foolish, _knew_ he could have protected himself if he'd been geared up; he'd been held at gunpoint by three assailants, one who had robbed him and two that had been there for what looked like little more than backup.

Tim could only assume word had gotten out that Timothy Drake-Wayne couldn't be taken down by a mere knife after the _last_ guy tried a few years ago. They were always after something he was carrying – his paperwork for Wayne Enterprises, the newest prototype for whatever Fox's teams were working on, _anything_ – and Tim had always taken them down. _Until now_.

He couldn't this time, not for lack of skill, nor for the fact that he was incapable, but because he couldn't physically take them on without revealing himself as Red Robin. His chance to help in some way had shown up in the form of BPD happening to roll up on the scene. The attackers tried to flee; Tim did his best to look panicked and grabbed for the one that had his wallet and shoved him down with more force than necessary. One of his buddies got a round off, grazing his side. Thankfully, Tim had the foresight to get his jacket in front of the wound as quickly as possible afterward so BPD wouldn't take him to the hospital. He got his wallet back, the guy got booked, and his rep of being a reckless headfirst sort of dude was still intact. 

He'd called Damian a few blocks down, knowing he was the closest to the scene and just prayed he was home so he wouldn't have to hoof it to one of Dick's safe houses.

He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind the chair and delicately reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt. He'd just unfastened the cuffs when Damian reappeared with a large medical kit from the bathroom, a basin and a few washcloths. He knelt next to Tim and wrung out one of the cloths, waiting until Tim had shoved the shirt off one shoulder and gotten his arm out of the way, starting to clean the wound. 

"Just grazed you. Deep enough to scar probably, not much I can do about that."

Tim winced slightly as Damian gave it one more good rinse and then started slathering on the antibiotic ointment and packing it with gauze. They rolled some gauze around his midsection to help keep it in place and then taped it off. 

Sitting back on his heels, Damian made a face. "Bled all the way down your pants."

Tim shifted, stared down at the angry dark patch on his gray slacks and sighed. "Yeah well... hazards I guess."

Sighing, Damian removed his gloves and popped open one of his medication bottles, passing Tim two of them and then gesturing to the fridge. "Water bottles in there. Trust me, avoid the tap water."

Tim watched him go before dry swallowing the pills and then carefully picked up his bloodied clothing. The shirt was a complete loss, though the jacket might not be depending on how careful he was with trying to get the stain out. The pants were probably a goner as were his boxer briefs if the pants were any indication. He picked up the remaining washcloth and hobbled his way toward the bathroom, skirting past Damian and starting to empty his pockets onto the counter, removing his belt and setting it aside to wash the blood off of.

Opening his pants, he slid them down enough to see his boxer briefs in the mirror and let out an unamused little huff. He moved to the sink, intent to wet the washcloth, surprise fitering through him when Damian took it and did it for him. Silently, Damian handed it back and then picked up his jacket and shirt and made himself scarce for the moment. 

Tim shuffled his way out of his slacks and his underwear, kicking off his shoes and socks before carefully washing the bloodied area of his hip and thigh. He rinsed the cloth before giving himself a washcloth rubdown, wincing slightly at certain ways he had to move to get parts of it, but unrelenting in getting himself cleaned off. 

He had only just finished when the door cracked open and Damian shoved a hand in, holding out a stack of clothing, offering a curt, "Do you require help?"

"I'm fine." Tim took the proffered clothing with a quiet, "Thank you," and the door closed once Damian had extracted his arm from the room. He unfolded the clothing, finding a pair of Damian's jockeys, a pair of yoga pants that were on the slimmer side, and a shirt he was likely to drown in, though he supposed at this point that was most of Damian's stuff. 

He maneuvered his way into the clothing, hissing a little as he stooped to pick up his pants and boxer briefs, rolling the underwear up inside his pants and quietly bemoaning the fact that they'd been one of his favorite pairs. He opened the door, finding Damian leaning on the wall across from the door, and he paused, curious as to why Damian was being so protective of him over this. Normally he would have expected the barbs to be out, for Damian to have been jabbing him with every half-cocked insult he could think of. It was honestly something they hadn't grown out of, even after ten years of knowing one another. 

There was certainly no more lingering hatred and when Damian turned sixteen, the two had exchanged apologies. However, there was still a certain chafe between them. Tim would ignore him most of the time and Damian would hurl insults at any given opportunity. It was just _how they were_. Yet, Damian hadn't sent any jabs in his direction despite the fact that Tim really thought he deserved a few. He'd been in civilian clothes and had been making himself more and more of a target as of late. He shouldn't have been in that situation in the first place, but he'd been _reckless_.

He stepped out of the bathroom only for Damian to take the bundle of clothing from his arms and then vaguely gesture down the hallway. "Stay here tonight. I have already let everyone know where you are and that you are safe."

Tim backtracked to get his phone, leaving the rest on the counter, and made his way down the hall to two rooms there. One he was certain was Damian's room if only because it felt warmer, as though it had been used. It wasn't a mess, didn't even look like the bed was slept in, but there were a few personal items on the dresser and a pair of shoes not quite all the way under the dresser. The other room felt sterile despite being so properly dressed up that Alfred would have been proud of Damian; had perhaps even had a hand in it.

Tim stepped into the room, made his way toward the chair in the corner, not feeling much like going to bed yet, and settled himself in it, curling up against one corner and unlocking his phone, opening his Wayne Enterprises email.

He'd barely gotten the first one read before Damian was extracting the phone from his hands, walking across the room with it wordlessly. He settled it on the dresser and leaned down to put a charger in the wall plug and then attached Tim's phone to it, turning off the screen. 

"Work has been apprised of the mugging and your nerves have dictated you take the rest of the day off. Do not go ruining the story."

Tim blinked at Damian's back, once again surprised by Damian's attention to the details, to trying to protect Tim in every way possible in this. He'd let him borrow his clothing, had patched him up without any ill will, and now he was telling him to rest, which – well, if Tim were honest – was slightly horrifying. Damian _never_ believed in resting through things, was always the first to try to defy any bed rest orders, the first to complain when benched – and it struck Tim that Damian didn't hold anyone else to his own standards. He only _made_ like he did.

There was a moment where Tim just stared dumbly at Damian's back and then he heard his mouth engaging. "Well, since I got my wallet back... pizza? There's a Geo's around here, right?" He remembered from years ago that Damian had loved their veggie pies, loving that they had white sauce when no one else had at the time and he'd personally adored the same pizza as long as it had the pan crust. 

Damian glanced at him and then gave a slight nod. "Get two of those veggie pies if they still have them, yeah? My wallet's in the bathroom. I'll buy for the inconvenience of my, uh, incident."

Another nod and then Damian was gone again, leaving Tim sitting there silently, wondering just what the fuck was going on.

\-----

Less than an hour later, Tim was seated in the living room, a paper plate on his lap and two delicious slices of pizza in front of him, one half devoured in his hand. Damian had poured them both tall glasses of milk to go with it and Tim was more grateful than he knew how to express that Damian had remembered that particular detail. Admittedly, it was one of the few things they'd ever agreed upon back when they'd both been kids. 

He quietly watched Damian nearly inhale his second slice of pizza and then gulp down his milk, listened as Titus pulled himself up off his bed and slowly tapped his way across the floor toward them. Tim took another bite of his pizza and then shifted slightly, glancing at Damian. "Can he have this?"

Damian shrugged. "His stomach hates everything these days, even his dog food. He won't eat the medication the vet prescribed for it either."

Tim tipped his head a little. "Get the meds for me?"

Damian pulled himself up off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. He came back holding a large medication bottle and held it out to Tim. "Be warned, they stink."

Tim carefully put his pizza down and opened the bottle, taking a small sniff and making a face. "No joke." He twisted it around to read the label and the fine print, wobbled his head back and forth a bit and then plucked one out and burrowed it into the center of the half eaten slice of pizza. Setting that slice aside and closing the bottle, he tucked the bottle down between the cushions and went back to eating his food, picking up a new slice to start polishing off. 

By the time he was done with that one, Titus had settled between them, his head resting on the couch cushion and Damian's foot was idly stroking Titus' ear. 

Smiling, Tim picked up the half eaten slice and folded it up so the pill was as far in the middle as possible and held it out carefully. "C'mon, you can have this." 

Titus perked up, giving a small _boof_ before carefully opening his mouth and delicately plucking the pizza from Tim's outstretched hand. Tim watched him eat it, patiently waiting, watching to make sure the pill didn't make a reappearance, knowing how finicky pets could be about getting the meds out and spitting them out. 

He smiled and settled back, picking up his other slice. "Success. One in."

When Damian said nothing, he looked up, finding Damian just staring at him with a somewhat shocked expression on his face. Tim studied him for a moment and then carefully, "Did you only try to give it to him the prescribed way?"

Damian worked his mouth for a moment and then shook his head. "No. I put it in a dog treat, too, but he spit it out after eating the treat."

"Too small. If he can't find it around the nice taste of the rest, you have a prayer. It's like a cat. If you need to give them something you always get the ones that are a powder and then put it in the nastiest smelling soft food you can find and they'll eat it right up. They're all built to digest a certain amount of food that's just slightly _off_ so a bit of strange taste in the midst of good taste will be okay enough for them to ignore. But if it's in a treat and too small then they'll taste more bad than good and eat around it."

Damian just swallowed and then looked away with a little nod.

Tim continued to stare at him, feeling like he'd found his way into some kind of surreal universe where Damian was somehow okay with his existence. It took him a while before he pulled his attention back to his food and finished off the slice. He'd just licked his fingers when another piece came into his field of vision, Damian holding out the last slice of that box to him and Tim took it, offering a small word of thanks and settling back to consume it, his mind reeling. 

Things weren't that bad with his side. Honestly, he had gotten worse out in the field often enough, his body littered with scars from far scarier things. The only thing he could think of was that Damian had seen the potential for Tim to have died just because he couldn't reveal who he was. If Tim had thought he was going to _die_ , though, he would have pulled out all the stops, gone in headfirst heedless of revealing himself as Red Robin. His secret getting out was better than _dying_ and while he was reasonably certain most people agreed with him on that, he was also starting to wonder if, perhaps, Damian thought he didn't share the sentiment. 

He put the crust down on his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin, balling it up and studying the coffee table instead of looking at Damian, just in case he was wrong. 

"I don't _want_ to die anymore. Just... so we're clear on that." Something clenched inside him to admit that, to be so open about the fact that he once had wanted to die. So badly he'd been _this close_ to trying it one night, had grasped at every straw he had and ended up on the phone with Dick for hours just to keep himself from doing it. 

Taking in a shaky breath, he shook his head a little. "That me... well, he wasn't medicated properly, for one. Sort of like Titus here. Don't take the pills, don't expect them to work and all that jazz." 

He heard Damian shifting and then felt him settle closer, glanced up to find him kneeling on the center cushion, leaning on the back of the couch, but looking for all the world like he wanted to be somewhere else entirely at the moment. Their eyes met and Tim's breath caught, hitching inward and when he spoke again it was hushed. "I'm better now, I promise. I didn't take them down because I didn't think they actually wanted to kill me. I don't care what identity I'm protecting, I'm not going to let myself die to protect it."

Damian seemed to relax at that, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked away, staring off somewhere behind Tim's head. "Why take down the one then? They were running."

"Because so far most of the assholes who want to rob me of whatever Wayne tech I happen to be holding know I'm scrappy enough to keep the low level thugs away. My life increases in pain-in-the-ass-ness if I don't. This way, I only have to deal with the hardliners and then I make a judgment call. Fight for whatever it is I have or let them have it and smack one of them around enough to show my sass."

"So a role then."

"Basically, yes."

Damian gave a small nod and then pushed himself off the couch, snapping his fingers for Titus. "We will be back in twenty. If the pizza does not agree, we do not want it to disagree in here."

Tim nodded, watching them go and then finishing off his crust and his glass of milk. He flipped on the TV for the company of it, flipping through channels to the music stations and then leaving it on a classical station, turned down so he could hear the door still. 

He was drifting by the time Damian returned, offered a sleepy smile to him, and Damian unleashed Titus, ditched his shoes and jacket, and then made his way toward the kitchen, washing up his hands. "No agony so far, so the meds may actually work."

"Would probably be more useful if he'd eat them prior to the food, but with it is better than not at all."

Damian came back to the couch, cleaned up the boxes, plates, and glasses and Tim pitched the napkins in the small trash bin under the coffee table. 

Tim glanced at the clock and sighed. With the wound and the fact that Damian had to go out soon, he might as well get comfortable and try to get to sleep. Pushing himself up, he went to use the bathroom and wash up before making his way into the spare bedroom and turning down the bed, crawling into it.

Damian tapped on the door frame a few minutes later, leaning against it in a way that seemed sort of forced. Tim studied him for a moment before murmuring, "Yeah?"

"Need anything?" Tim shook his head and Damian gave a grunt of acknowledgment, pushing away from the doorjamb, "Wake me when you need to leave, I will drive you to the manor."

Tim hummed and Damian closed the door on his way out, leaving Tim in the darkness as he heard Damian moving around the apartment, presumably getting ready to leave for the evening.

\-----

Hours later Tim woke up to the sting in his side. Instantly he realized why it was stinging; his hips were flexed up, his cock achingly hard and rubbing against the covers. He'd thrown off his usual routine and his body was having none of it. 

He listened to the world outside the guest room, hearing nothing other than Titus' faint snores. For a minute, he debated if he was going to risk it or not. He could just ignore his body's desire and go back to bed or he could get off, be far more satisfied, and sleep probably until morning. Weighing the options, he made his decision and pushed the covers back. He shifted as little as possible as he shoved the yoga pants down, got them off his legs and tugged them up beside him so he didn't inadvertently kick them off onto the floor. 

Sliding one hand down into the jockeys, he grasped his cock and gave it one good stroke, running his finger over the damp tip, feeling his heart speed up a bit at how much precum he'd already left on Damian's underwear. He lingered on that thought for a moment, his free hand grasping the material next to him and tugging it closer, holding the yoga pants crushed up against him in some attempt to make himself not feel nearly as alone as he was while he did this. It was an old habit, one that usually involved one of the four pillows he kept in his bed at home, but there was no spare here. Only one thing besides the covers to grasp onto, and so, he did.

His hand started to move quickly over his length and he bit his lip to keep in the excited sounds that wanted out. He swiped his finger over the head again, gathering more dampness and spreading it down his shaft, having to force his hips to stay still as he stroked off. 

Closing his eyes, he turned his head and stuffed it down against the fabric of the yoga pants, choked on a moan as he got a whiff of a scent he associated with Damian. The obvious fact that he'd worn these before, that he'd sweated in them, and despite a good washing, they still faintly smelled of him. Tim shuddered, shoved them closer to his face and worked his cock faster, almost panting into the material.

His hips wanted in on the action and every time he moved them he had to bite back a cry of pain, but he was so far into his arousal that it didn't make him stop. He gasped and then let out a whine as his hips jerked again, shoved his face harder into the crotch of the yoga pants and took a huge mouthful of air, slid his tongue out and found himself disappointed it didn't taste like anything beyond fabric. 

Excitement gripped him as he thought about sneaking into Damian's room, finding a used piece of clothing and pressing that to his face instead. He jerked off faster, his hips trying to rock with him. His orgasm swelled in his belly, his balls tightening and his cock flexing. He let out a choked-off cry, the first spurt of cum unloading into his borrowed briefs just as he realized he was cumming right into Damian's clothing – clothing Damian would presumably wear again. Another excited cry left him, muffled by the yoga pants he'd all but shoved over his entire face, and he began emptying his balls in earnest. 

Tim was still trembling, his hand stroking his sensitive length when the door cracked open and Damian's tentative voice called out, "Tim? Light." The light turned on and Tim froze, too mortified to move the pants from his face, too shocked to try to cover what he was doing, and frankly too turned on to let go of his cock. In all his years he had _never_ been walked in on and he found himself excited by it, by knowing Damian was standing there with the door open and the light on, staring at what was supposed to be his shame.

He stroked himself once and he heard Damian's hitched breath, did it again and received an Arabic curse in a voice that sounded very much more turned on than it was supposed to be.

Slowly easing himself back from the pants, he forced himself to look at Damian, found him staring right at Tim's crotch, watched his mouth form words that didn't quite make it to the air was he stroked again.

Taking his chances, Tim breathed out, "Came in your shorts..."

Damian full on groaned, sagging against the door frame and Tim let his eyes wander down Damian's body, finding his sleep shorts tented out almost comically. He shivered, wincing as it pulled at his wound, and then slid his hand out, knowing it was coated in cum.

"Didn't really think this one out."

Damian started for the bed, froze halfway there and Tim was certain he'd never seen someone look more at war with themselves. It was like Damian wanted to both run away and crawl right into bed with him. 

Going for broke, Tim turned his face back toward the pants and whispered out, "These smell like you..."

Damian was there in an instant, leaning over him and turning his head away from the pants, kissing him hard enough their teeth clacked and it was nothing but tongue and teeth for a moment before he pulled away. "You like that?"

"Wish it was _more_."

Damian moaned, shuffling around beside Tim for a moment and then pressing fabric into Tim's hand, urging it up toward his face. "Show me."

Tim wondered for a moment if he was dreaming all of this up. If he'd just wake up with his load in his pants and Damian none the wiser on how he'd just gotten off to an amazing sex dream about him, but this felt too real, Damian's reactions too genuine. 

Pulling Damian's sleep shorts up to his nose, he took a whiff and groaned, shoving his face right in the crotch of them and nuzzling it as he pushed his hand back into his jockeys, eager to tend to his rapidly re-hardening cock. He sniffed and jerked his cock, tongue snaking out to taste the wet patch, only for him to cry out and suck the whole of the patch into his mouth, greedily taking in the flavor of Damian's precum, sucking until it just tasted like material, until he was making little disappointed sounds and Damian was tugging the material away from him. 

"Talk to me. _Tell_ me what you want me to do."

Tim shivered, wiping his hand on the inside of the jockeys and then reaching for Damian, rolling onto his back, tugging Damian with him and urging Damian to rock his hips against him, gasping out, " _This_ ," as his cock strained inside Damian's underwear. 

Damian situated himself and then began to move, rocking quickly against Tim's cock, his own pressed alongside it. "Can you cum again?"

Tim nodded, feeling almost frantic as he reached for Damian, heedless of his cum-slicked hand, just jerking Damian's hips closer to him, throwing back his head and gasping at the feeling of Damian's touch.

Every satisfied sound that left him seemed to pull at Damian, make him go faster, seem more desperate, and Tim couldn't say he blamed him in the least. He was so horny he was panting, realized he hadn't been this turned on with a lover in _years_. 

Letting out a whine, Tim did his best not to arch into Damian's touch, did all he could to keep his hips from rocking despite wanting to mindlessly rut against Damian's cock. Instead, he nearly dug his nails in as he felt himself start to tremble, his balls beginning to tighten again. 

"Damian, I –" he was cut off by Damian's loud moan, by the way his hips jerked roughly for a few seconds and then warmth was flooding his jockeys, Damian cumming right against his cock.

Tim let out a strangled shout, his hips trying to surge anyway, not getting anywhere due to how hard Damian was pressing down against him and then started to shoot in Damian's jockeys for the second time. 

Damian eased against him, resting his forehead on Tim's shoulder as he caught his breath, shivering and then tensing. 

"Tim, I sho –"

Tim reached up with his clean hand to clutch at Damian's bicep, shaking his head. "Please don't. Don't regret this."

Damian was silent for a moment, only the sound of their mingled breathing on the air until Damian sighed, shifted off of Tim and instead settled beside him, one hand coming to splay over Tim's hip. "You don't?"

"Not in the slightest." Tim licked his lips, wiped his hand on his ruined underwear and reached down to put his hand over Damian's own. "Look, it's not like I wasn't thinking about you while I was doing it."

He watched the slightly embarrassed smile ghost over Damian's lips. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm." 

The smile got a bit bigger and then Damian was rolling over, sliding out of the bed and Tim couldn't help the frown that slid over his lips. He'd hoped to have company, to not have to clutch onto the pants for the rest of the night, but he also wasn't going to press Damian. 

He let him leave, resting back against the pillows and trying to decide if he just wanted to leave the jockeys on like this or if he needed to clean up. 

Damian stepped back into the room and the light flicked off. A moment later the bed dipped, and then a warm washcloth settled on his chest. Damian worked his jockeys off, discarding them on the floor somewhere beside the bed and then settled against Tim's good side, starting to gently wash him up. 

They didn't talk and Tim just let Damian clean him, gasping a little when the touch got a bit more involved than cleaning should have required, _felt_ Damian's smile against his shoulder as he relented and the cloth dropped over the side of the bed as well, Damian tugging the covers up over them as he settled in. 

Tim relaxed against the bed, thankful for the warmth at his side, and relaxed by the lack of argument or defensiveness. He closed his eyes and as sleep started to claim him, he allowed himself all of the what ifs. What if this wasn't the only time? What if half of their issues had been wanting one another too badly to even discover that had been the problem the whole time? What if this was the start of something good for them both?

The smile on his face had nothing to do with having gotten laid and instead everything to do with the warmth in his chest and against his side for the first time years. 

Things just had a way of working out.


End file.
